


little things

by perhapssoon



Series: pink tides [2]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, Gen, Implied Explicit Content, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, They all need hugs, all of them are adults now, aloha needs a hug, implied anorexia, implied depression, implied non consensual content, pink team are idols but theyre all screwed over, rider is part of the s4 oop, supportive s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 10:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perhapssoon/pseuds/perhapssoon
Summary: He would laugh if it didn't hurt so much.





	little things

**Author's Note:**

> oof i realized how much of a vent this is,,, i wrote this at 2am pls spare me jhksdf
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> i just imagine pink team as idols (pls splat 3 goddamnit) 
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> also i havent finished dreams into reality but if you havent read that yet, thisll still make sense,,, if you have read it then uhhh if you dont want spoilers then dont read? im not too sure if i want this to end up happened either but i wanted to post this before the mood passes

"Thank you and good night!" Aloha gives one last shout to the crowd -- they respond in a roar of approval -- before going backstage, each step further into the wings turning the smile from his face until it resembled mostly a frown.

It felt like tonight's show was never going to end, and Aloha finds himself grateful that this one didn't drag on like the others did. This one doesn't have fans waiting backstage, this one doesn't have the photographers crowding the area with their too-large lens and bulky cameras, this one doesn't have reporters running in circles around him, driving him crazy. 

They never do.

At first glance, the Pink Team-turned-idol-group seemed to have it all: money, fame, everything. They walked through public with a smile on their faces, flirting with everyone within reach, eyes bright and full of laughter. But no one ever saw what happened behind the scenes. No one saw anything that could potentially ruin the idols' entire career if just one soul happened to peek backstage.

They had no stage crew, no tech crew. They control the lights and sound system onstage, crafted into the stage itself and the booth that some of them took to at some point or another. Backstage is empty, just rows of empty hallways, tiled floors too polished to be walked on, noise from their shoes echoing with each movement they make.

So it's now that Aloha, separated from his fans by a thick slab of metal, rips the microphone from his ear, tugging the cord out from under his shirt, and tossing it to the side as he enters the main room. 

His friends are all sprawled out on the couch, the table, really any place that isn't currently covered in beer bottles or unwashed dishes. Their own microphones are discarded on the floor, lying there like lifeless black snakes. Aloha steps over a clump of cords to collapse on a chair, the hard plastic digging into his back. His head is already feeling light and he counts his fellow idols, noticing someone's missing.

"Where's OG?"

"Bathroom again." It's Scuba who speaks, his mask dangling around his neck, snorkel tube filthy and dented, losing color in some places like he kept washing it, but no matter how many times he tried, it couldn't get rid of the grime. Not that the crowd will ever see it though, because the stage lights reflect too much, showing more silhouettes than actual images, because he removes the tube itself whenever they go into public. His eyelids lower partway as he lifts the bottle in his hand to his mouth, chugging the rest of the liquid inside before tossing it over Aloha's head and into the trash, the glass shattering inside the bin. "You think she's ever gonna stop?"

"No." Aloha's being honest here. He's sure that whenever all of them stop drinking and making a mess of their lives is when Octoglasses will stop making those frequent trips to the bathroom and when the retching noises will stop bouncing along the tiled hallways. She never really did like drinking beer anyway, but after what happened, it was all they could bear to use. Water didn't have the same effect on them anyway. Reality was the most they could afford. "She won't stop until we do."

"But we won't stop." It's Straw who speaks next, flicking a bottle cap onto the table in front of her. She watches it spin before it clatters to the floor, but she doesn't bother to pick it up. Her hat is immaculate, as is her clothing, but she wipes a hand across her face and removes half her makeup in the process, revealing an angry red mark on the side of her face. "This is bad. What we're doing here?"

They've had this discussion before. Yes, they should stop drinking. Yes, they need to get a better hold on their lives. Yes, they need to find a better way to get money. But it's hard. It's hard when you're an idol and you're broke at the same time. It's hard when you put trust in the wrong people at the wrong times and by the time you figure it out, it's too late. It's hard when all the public sees is an image, pictures on a screen, pretty faces to show off. It's hard when they made an agreement after the incident: appearance is the only thing that matters.

"Everythin's bad at this point, Straw." Scuba sighs, leaning forward. "Our jobs, our side jobs, the public image, everythin'."

"Right, right." Straw laughs, the sound raspy. It's nothing like the sweet, clear voice that harmonizes on stage. "Who cares if we do jackshit to our bodies? They only care about our faces."

"Hence the makeup." Scuba's smiling too, but it's more forced and dry. "And the washing machine."

"Thank cod for washin' machines." Straw raises her hands like she's praying to the Great Zapfish. "Thank cod for bleach."

"I'd bleach my mind at this point," Aloha says, and it's only partially true. "After what happened..?"

"You mean our side jobs or just in general?"

"Side jobs. I don't want to erase being with you guys."

"Aw that's really sweet." Straw leans over to gently punch Aloha in the shoulder. She's careful to avoid the bruise, but it still makes him wince. "We care about you too."

"Speakin' of side jobs--" Octoglasses is back, her face looking pale. She sways slightly before she sits down, downing the beer Scuba hands to her. She gags on the smell before handing it back. "--how much did you get last night?"

"Last night? Someone tipped me twenty Coins." Scuba yawns. "They said they were being generous."

"They know it costs more for you, right?"

"Yeah. They don't give a shit, man."

"Okay, movin' on from that." Straw claps her hands, the sound unusually loud. "I ruined my best shirt last night, cause that guy was just--" She shudders, and Aloha understands what she means. 

They all do.

"Washin' machine?" Octoglasses asks.

"Washin' machine," Straw agrees. "Bleached the hell out of it too. Most of it came out, but ya girl's gonna have to keep this one in the closet for now. Don't wanna be walkin' around with a you-know-what stain on my chest."

Aloha's phone buzzes then, and he glances down to see a text from Skull. "Oh, S4 are meeting soon."

"You don't have to go, do you? You're not part of the S4 anymore."

"Good memories," Aloha says and stands, stretching. "See you guys tonight, yeah?"

"2am? I can cover your shift." Scuba stands as well, tossing another bottle into the trashcan. 

"Yeah. If I don't show by then, tell boss to just hold off on pay and find someone else to do it." Aloha waves and leaves, for once not bothering to fix his appearance. The S4 won't mind, right? He staggers slightly as he exits the room, but quickly rights himself. He can't risk breaking his facade today, not yet.

The S4 base is open, and he easily steps inside, sitting in one of the empty chairs. It just so happens that he's right besides Rider, who gives him a  _you're late_  look.

"What took you so long?"

"Show was tirin'," is all Aloha offers, along with a fake grin. The S4 aren't aware of his and his former team's situation and he doesn't plan on telling them any time soon. "You didn't start without me, I hope?"

"Never."

"Nice to see you still care about me~"

Army speaks up then, frowning. "Aloha, did something happen?"

The pink Inkling starts, eyes going a bit wide. "Sorry?"

"Your--" Army gestures to Aloha's shirt and the other Inkling follows his gaze. His top button is undone, like usual, but a bruising patch of skin is showing through his undershirt. Aloha quickly pinches the collar shut, adjusting it to cover the mark.

"Oh, it's nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Skull says slowly. Aloha can tell just by looking at the rest of the S4 that they all saw that bruise. "What happened?"

Aloha racks his brain for an excuse, hearts pounding wildly in his chest. They couldn't find out what was going on, they couldn't know about all the disgraceful things he does to just keep his image up, they couldn't--

"Alohaaa?"

It's Mask who speaks next, and Aloha realizes he's hyperventilating, staring down at the table like it will suddenly reveal a way out for him this time. His vision is blurry now and he is barely aware of Army standing, making his way over. The orange Inkling crouches next to him and gently pries Aloha's hands from his collar, the shorter Inkling unconsciously choking himself with his own shirt. "Aloha, it's okay. You can talk to us."

"I-- It's not-- I-- okay not okay I need--" Aloha trips over his own words, falling flat. He can't breathe, even with his collar loosened. This is exactly what  _wasn't_  supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to find out. They had to be like the public: always thinking everything was okay.

"We'll help you, whatever you need," Skull says. Or at least Aloha thinks it's Skull. His eyesight is becoming blurry, and he doesn't know if it's tears or if he's finally losing it.

He would start laughing if it didn't hurt so much.

"Listen, Aloha, if you don't snap out of it, you'll probably choke to death on your own tears and we can't have a murder on our hands--"

"Rider!"

Aloha just lets out a wheezy chuckle, inhaling too much air and nearly choking again. Army gently rubs his back. "Aloha. Talk to us."

Aloha takes another shaky breath, trying to calm himself. "I-- it's fine."

"You almost died on uuus," Mask tells him incredulously, like Aloha wasn't there when it happened.  "That's not fiiine."

"You have a hickey on your chest," Rider says. He's blunt, and Aloha's almost grateful for it. "And by the way you tried to cover it up, you don't want that hickey either."

“I—“

“You don’t have to hide from us, Aloha. It won’t help matters any further if you don’t let us know.”

There should no harm in it. Really. Aloha doesn’t think that his friends will care if he just spilled the contents of every secret they’ve been trying to keep ever since the incident. He trusts the S4, shell, he even trusts Rider. 

But why does he feel so scared to tell the truth?

“I— we’re broke.” The silence that falls is deafening and Aloha wishes he could take those words back. 

“You’re broke?” Rider is the first one to speak, surprisingly. “How?”

“Our manager was an asshole. We thought we could trust him but he just—“ Aloha waves a hand in the air to symbolize their money. “Gone. It’s gone. Everythin’. He redirected all the accounts we own to give the money to himself and we haven’t been able to do anything except retract our bank accounts but it’s too late anyway.”

“So how do you keep gooooing? And how does that explain the hickeeey?”

Aloha swallows hard. Here’s the hard part. 

“I— We’re gettin’ paid to—  All of us I mean— we’re gettin’ paid to, to—“

His voice breaks off. He can’t do it. He can’t say it. If he says it, everything will be cemented in his mind as something he couldn’t change even in his dreams. They’re pathetic, he realizes. Pathetic for even falling this far, pathetic for hiding it, pathetic for continuing the whole idol gig if their own lives were miserable. 

The S4, thankfully, just waits silently for him for finish. 

“We’re gettin’ paid to make people’s nights better, let’s just say that. I can’t— I can’t say it out loud. I-I just can’t.”

Understanding dawns first in Mask’s eyes, and then Rider’s. Army and Skull both show their realization at the same time. 

“I’m so sorry, Aloha.” Army looks horrified, but there’s no pity there. Just concern and maybe a bit of sadness. Aloha feels gratitude and appreciation for Army in that moment and it increases to include the rest of the S4 when Skull walks around the table to embrace him. 

Aloha feels the words bubbling in his throat, words of thanks, even as hot tears are currently streaming down his face. The words come out; they’re not the words Aloha wants to say but if he admitted this, he might as well say the rest. 

“We did it as a one time thing to begin with, but pay was decent and since we were all so wasted by that point, there were no other jobs we could safely do. So we just kept goin’ back, and kept doin’ it, to the point where we all just broke our bodies to keep both this job and the idol image in public. Straw got manhandled to the point where she has a gash on her face, but nothing like makeup to cover it up right? We ruin our clothing and our gear so much that bleach doesn’t get rid of the stains anymore. The public only loves faces right? Who fuckin’ cares about us? Who cares about what we do to destroy ourselves each night, if they get their concerts and autographs?”

Skull just responds by holding him tighter and Aloha lets out a sob. “We care, Aloha. We care about you. You don’t need to do this to yourself.”

“There’s no point in any of this,” Aloha responds, voice muffled by Skull’s shoulder. “It’s so fuckin’ stupid. So so stupid. I hate this life. I don’t want to keep doin’ this.”

Skull pulls away then, gripping both his shoulders tightly. By miracle, he avoids the bruise. “Then promise me— promise all of us you four won’t go back. You need to break out of the cycle. We can get you jobs again; shell, you can even turf again, but you need to get out.”

“We have a contract,” Aloha protests. “We can’t—“

“You can.” Rider is one to speak next and he kneels next to Skull, looking at Aloha with such seriousness, the pink Inkling is almost taken aback. “You can break these habits. You can leave this toxic lifestyle. You don’t need to ruin yourself for this. It’s not worth it.”

Aloha releases an uneven breath. His mind feels like a huge white spot, unable to concentrate on his thoughts. “I— Okay. I can— I can try.”

“Dooon’t just try,” Mask says, leaning over the table. “Do it.” 

Aloha meets his gaze, meets all of their gazes one by one, and wants to cry all over again. They care about him. They care about him and his former team. The rest of the public may not, but this is enough. This small bit is enough. 

He stands shakily, wobbling a bit, and Rider steadies him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Find the rest of your team. Bring them back here.”

“And if they don’t want to come?” It’s not a plausible question; Aloha knows that all three of them would come in a heartbeat. Still, he can’t help askin anyway. 

“They have to.”

Aloha nods slightly and stumbles out of base, heading towards the backstage door. He meets Scuba right as he opens the door and almost falls over in relief. The masked Inkling catches him before he can hit the ground. “Woah, woah, ‘Loha, you okay? What happened? Did the meetin’ end early?”

“No, I’m fine.” Aloha manages to straighten, noticing that Straw and Octoglasses are right behind Scuba, looking worried. “I’m fine now.”

“You need somethin’?” Scuba still looks concerned. 

“No, I don’t, actually.” Aloha smiles then; it’s the first genuine smile he’s ever given in a long time. “We have a way out. We can leave this life.”

“Hopefully not suicide?” Straw asks. 

“No, far from that. It’s better.”

“Stop being cryptic with your answers, ‘Loha, tell us already, man.”

Aloha’s smile grows larger. “The S4 know. They  _know_ , Scuba.”

“That’s a good thing?” Scuba suddenly looks alarmed. “How’d they find out?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re willin’ to help us.”

Scuba’s eyes widen in realization. “Wait so—“

“We don’t have to do this alone. They’ll get us jobs, they’ll help us. They’ll—“

Scuba kisses him then, it’s short, but it’s deep, and when he pulls away, he looks the most alive he’s been ever since their manager robbed them, even if his eyes are filling with tears. “Cod, you’re amazin’, you know that?”

“You told me before but I don’t remember it that well. Don’t really remember anythin’ at all anyway.”

“What’d they say to do?” Octoglasses breaks in on the moment.

“Follow me,” Aloha tells her and he would run back to the S4 base if he weren’t so exhausted. Instead he just walks, his team following behind him. 

The S4 are waiting for them outside, the night sky behind them sprinkled with stars. Octoglasses starts crying when they arrive, her sobs echoing through the empty street. Aloha and the other embrace her, falling together to lie on the grass, just a bundle of limbs and broken emotions. 

“We’re okay,” Aloha says, voice soft enough for them all to hear but not loud enough to reflect onto the world. “We’re okay, thank cod.”

They stay like that for a long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> weow non fic compliant lets go


End file.
